


To languish thus is sheer delight

by Milady_Kora



Series: Sylvix Week 2020 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boot Worship, Chapter 1 is sfw, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fantasizing, Flirting, Hand & Finger Kink, Hook-Up, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining in a traffic jam should be a tag, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Top Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Useless Bottom Sylvain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milady_Kora/pseuds/Milady_Kora
Summary: The universe either loved him, or it hated him and wanted him to die in the most ridiculous car crash on the planet. The man was using his teeth to hold the ribbon while his long fingers combed through his hair. Sylvain had to tell himself that as iconic and on-brand it would have been to die from a heart attack induced by this sight, it would be best if he didn’t prolong the traffic jam even more.As if to underscore his line of thinking, not a single car moved for the next ten minutes. Sylvain had yet to decide if he was happy about this or not. On the one hand, he was incredibly bored. To his other hand was the ivory Hyundai.On his way to Ingrid and Dorothea's wedding, Sylvain gets stuck in a traffic jam and ends up pining after the man in the lane right next to him. And honestly, who can blame him if this man is Felix Hugo Fraldarius?
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Sylvix Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933510
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	1. Non trovo pace notte né dì

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Pining/Longing.
> 
> Content warnings: Mention of heart attacks and car accidents as a potential cause of death (humorous context), brief mention of (surprise-induced, non-sexual) choking, slightly irresponsible driving behaviour, alcohol and drinking (unrelated to the driving), slightly mature language
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta [Jupe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupe/works) for reading through this. The fic was inspired by a very pining-filled IRL traffic jam, however, unlike Sylvain, I never got to see that sexy person again. Oh well.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

This was the first time Sylvain was glad he had taken his French car with him to England. Having the driver's seat on the wrong side had been nothing but trouble and stress - but now that he was stuck in a traffic jam with the most beautiful person on earth in the lane right next to him, it was all worth it.

He threw a quick glance over to his left to check if the ivory Hyundai was still there. It was, and so was the driver. Just as Sylvain was looking at him, the man drew up one hand to remove a hair ribbon and okay, wow, Sylvain didn't think this sight could have gotten any better. But it did. The young man didn't just allow the silky blue locks to sink onto his shoulders - after pulling off the hair tie, he tossed his head and created a gorgeous whirlwind around his face.

Sylvain swallowed and forced himself to look away and back to his lane. In front of him, the queue of red backlights slowly vanished as the cars began to move. He quickly shifted into the first gear. Then, he waited. The cars in front of him crept forward a few meters, then stopped again. Sylvain briefly considered just staying where he was and not even bothering to move until he had more space, but one quick look at the car next to him and he instantly changed his mind. The ivory Hyundai had begun to blink, clearly wishing to switch to his lane, and Sylvain would be damned if he let its driver get in front of him and out of his sight.

Sylvain hurriedly closed the gap between him and the car in front, then mouthed an apology at the annoyed look the driver threw him. Even the scowl was gorgeous. Truly, luck had it out for him today, he thought as he shifted back into neutral.

The traffic jam was massive. Sylvain's phone flashed a "+35 minutes" in bold red text before infuriatingly telling him that he was "still on the fastest route". At least Ingrid’s and Dorothea’s wedding didn’t start until tomorrow, but he still wanted to arrive as early as possible. 

The car next to him had begun to blink again, and with a startle, Sylvain realised he had allowed another gap to emerge in front of him. He closed it. His neighbour threw him another sour glance, and saints, Sylvain could get lost in those eyes. Molten gold, just made for him to sink into and drown and remain there forever.

A car horn behind him blared, making him flinch. Focus on the road, he told himself. Focus. Come on, pay attention. 

Easier said than done, actually. As Sylvain slowly closed the gap between him and the red Porsche in front (disgusting), he couldn't help but glance over every two seconds.

The universe either loved him, or it hated him and wanted him to die in the most ridiculous car crash on the planet. The man was using his teeth to hold the ribbon while his long fingers combed through his hair. Sylvain had to tell himself that as iconic and on-brand it would have been to die from a heart attack induced by this sight, it would be best if he didn’t prolong the traffic jam even more.

As if to underscore his line of thinking, not a single car moved for the next ten minutes. Sylvain had yet to decide if he was happy about this or not. On the one hand, he was incredibly bored. To his other hand was the ivory car.

Wait, staring was super-creepy. If there was an almighty, wish-granting power in heaven (hell was fine too, he wasn't very picky) that would make them meet again, saying "hey so remember me? I ogled you for the entire hour we were in a traffic jam together" was probably not the best introduction.

But they probably wouldn't meet again. What were the odds? Even if England was somewhat small, it was still big enough for two strangers to never run into each other a second time. So it was totally fine if Sylvain did end up staring for longer than was possibly appropriate, right? Probably not, but Sylvain was weak and did it anyway.

The man's fingers (it was simply unfair how gorgeous his hands looked) slid along the steering wheel and Sylvain nearly choked. So what if every single steering wheel was made of black suede, this sight was special. Sylvain had never seen something this sexy before, and if he had, then this man was powerful enough to make him forget all about it. Scratch that, those fingers alone were powerful enough and – was that black nail polish? Was that fucking black nail polish? Gods, Sylvain really did have a type. 

And then something about the man’s posture shifted as he leaned forward to survey the road ahead of him, and Sylvain found himself completely and utterly taken by the sight of the man’s canines digging into his lower lip. 

“Please step on me,” Sylvain thought in the most respectful way possible. He couldn’t see the man’s legs, but he decided to imagine the man wearing high heels. The ones with the very long and thin heel, to be precise. The ones that hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and would make Sylvain whimper and beg for more.

Okay, no, that was too much. Even if Sylvain didn’t have dignity and enjoyed bathing in the gutter of his thoughts, it wasn’t okay to assume other people did, too, tempting though it might have been. So, as much as it pained him, Sylvain forced himself to focus again on the road (you know, like he should have been doing all this time) and looked straight ahead. 

As if the gods of traffic jam decided to have mercy on his poor heart, that was also the time his lane began to move again. Sylvain sunk back into his seat with a sigh of relief and, while he waited for it to be his turn, he flicked through the radio channels.

News, news, love songs, the weather, an opera, more news – wait, the opera was a good one. And so, as Mozart’s _Le Nozze di Figaro_ filled his car with delightful bickering and intrigue, Sylvain hummed along in his best (or worst) falsetto. Gods, he had always had a soft spot for Cherubino. Sylvain made a mental note to thank Maria Ewing if both of them made it to heaven and met there. 

What kind of music did black-nailpolish-guy listen to, actually? Punk? Metal? Sylvain looked over, abandoning his resolve to be a responsible driver, and noticed those fingers he literally couldn’t get enough of drumming on the steering wheel as if it were a piano keyboard. Wait. Sylvain quickly turned up the car radio and then looked to his left again. The man’s ring finger gently pressed against the surface, then the hand’s weight shifted towards the thumb in the softest of staccatos before swaying between thumb and fifth finger. Sylvain watched breathlessly as the man reproduced the entirety of _Voi ché sapete_ on his steering wheel. Oh no. They even had the same music taste.

“Marry me,” he thought – again, in the most respectful way possible. Was moving from pure submission to deep romantic desire progress, or even more objectifying of him? Actually, Sylvain decided, he didn’t care. There was enough room for both sex and romance in his gay heart. 

The radio moved on to the recitative, and gods, Sylvain was absolutely looking forward to talking with Dorothea about the opera later. She and Ingrid would absolutely kill it as Comtesse Rosina and Susanna, and then Sylvain imagined Annette as the Comte Almaviva and burst into laughter. (The actual Comte Almaviva on the radio, meanwhile, was banging on Rosina’s door demanding to be let in.) 

Of course, if Sylvain thought that he could successfully distract himself from the man next to him, he was wrong, because then he imagined him as the dominant asshole that was the Comte Almaviva and oh no. This was perfect. 

“Why, brain?”, he asked desperately, trying not to bang his head against the steering wheel, “Why do you keep showing me pictures of something beautiful that I can’t have?”

His brain, unfortunately, didn’t answer. Sylvain groaned.

And then his lane began to move properly for the first time in what felt like hours. Too giddy with joy about that fact, Sylvain didn’t even realise he had left the ivory car behind him until it was too late. Too late for what? He didn’t know. It wasn’t like he had many options – the other, his brain unhelpfully supplied, was to allow the man with the indigo hair to move into his lane. So either way, Sylvain would have lost him.

Unfortunately, that very logical train of thought did nothing for Sylvain’s poor aching heart. And then his lane stopped moving and goddess, that made Sylvain happier than it honestly should have because now he was stuck again. He should probably call Ingrid and tell her he was gonna be late.

Or he could spend the time he was standing here productively. Which meant compulsively checking his mirrors to see if he could spot the sexy beautiful Almaviva. At least he remembered the nameplate (it had a 96 in it, which, close enough to satisfy him). Sylvain shifted around with impatience, then made sure he had a firm foot on the brake and turned around.

Nothing. What a surprise. 

Sylvain sighed, turned down the radio volume a little – currently, Figaro was singing about how it was totally him who jumped into the pond (mood) – and opened his window. It was for the fresh air, he told himself. It was warm, after all. Then, he leaned out again and looked back. 

Still nothing. 

And then both lanes began to move. Sylvain screamed internally, then, filled with anger and frustration, leaned back and followed the flow. Who would have thought that being in a traffic jam could be so disempowering? 

Actually, on second thought, strike that. Who would have thought that leaving a traffic jam could be even more disempowering?

Yeah. That sounded about right. Just the perfect amount of pain mixed with irony and appreciation for fate’s lovely tendency to cockblock Sylvain at any possibility. 

Traffic was slowly picking up and well, that was probably it. Goodbye, unknown beautiful stranger, Sylvain silently lamented. Never before had Rosina’s Dove Sono sounded so sweet and tragic, and Sylvain was here for every single moment of it. 

The traffic jam was over, everyone was back to driving over 100, and even though Sylvain paid attention to every single car that passed him, he didn’t see it again.

If only his constant yearning could bring hope of changing the man’s ungrateful heart, indeed. 

***

Sylvain arrived in melancholic spirits. After a hug from Ingrid – she always gave the best hugs – and a cheek kiss from Dorothea, he felt marginally better, but it took him several glasses of wine together with the two girls before he decided to start getting over it.

“Getting over it,” of course, actually meant “whining about it”. But in order to let go of something, you first needed to talk about it, right?

“…and Dorothea, get this!”, Sylvain was currently saying as Dorothea nodded along, barely hiding her grin, “he had a great taste in music! We both listened to _Le Nozze di Figaro_ , and he was finger-pianoing along on his steering wheel and it was the most sensual thing I have ever seen.”

“”Uh-huh,” Dorothea said. Currently, she was sitting on Ingrid’s lap and sipping on her rosé. 

“I will remember that ivory Hyundai for the rest of my life,” Sylvain said dreamily. Maybe he was a bit too tipsy, but it was fine. If anything, the restaurant wine was to blame and besides, he’d be sober enough for the wedding tomorrow. And Ingrid wasn’t any better either, if the way she was squinting was any indication. Then, something like a smirk crept onto her face. Sylvain definitely didn’t trust that expression.

“So,” she asked sweetly, “how did he look? Long hair?”

Sylvain choked on his drink and coughed for a minute straight before nodding and giving a hoarse “Yeah.”

Dorothea was grinning, too. “Sleek, graceful fingers with black nail polish?”

Were they making fun of him? Wait, that didn’t make sense. They were probably just guessing and doing a damn good job at it, which wasn’t very surprising given that he had a type. Sylvain nodded slowly.

“Sexy golden eyes?”, a voice Sylvain behind him asked. He turned around and- 

Oh.

_Oh._

”Hi,” the man with long hair, sleek graceful fingers with black nail polish and sexy golden eyes said. Fuck, his voice was as attractive as the rest of him.

“Hi,” Sylvain said back. Then cleared his throat. “Well, this is awkward.”

Behind him, Ingrid started to laugh.

The man just raised a thin eyebrow and sat down next to Sylvain. “Doesn’t have to be.” 

The way he was staring at Sylvain was almost obscene, but Sylvain couldn’t exactly object to it after the way he had behaved back in the traffic jam. Heh, object to it. Anyway, that he enjoyed this look was neither here nor there, or maybe it was. Sylvain was tired, tipsy and turned on, so critical thinking wasn’t really among his available skillsets right now.

“Sylvain, meet Felix, one of the guests of honor tomorrow,” Dorothea told him. “Just like you. He works with us at the theatre, choreographing all the fight scenes.”

“Mostly swordplay,” Felix corrected, “but hand-to-hand works for me, too.”

Sylvain just stared at the man next to him (this seemed to be a running joke today). Was Felix flirting, or was Sylvain just drunk?

“Anyway,” Felix said with this fucking sexy tenor, “nice to meet you. And thanks for cutting me off on the highway before.”

“You’re welcome,” Sylvain replied on autopilot before realising what he just said. He opened his mouth to apologise profusely, but Felix just smirked in a way that definitely, definitely didn’t do unspeakable things to Sylvain.

“Boys,” Ingrid said, “do you want to eat something, or do you just want to mentally undress each other for all eternity?”

“Uhm,” replied Sylvain, brain still in the process of reassembling itself. “Uh. Menu first?”

Dorothea looked like she was bursting with a very funny and very inappropriate line.

“Whatever you’re about to suggest, Dorothea, you can shove it right up your ass,” Felix said, saving the situation and dooming Sylvain.

Ingrid protectively wrapped her arms around Dorothea and shot Felix a warning glare. “You hold your tongue, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, or I’ll tell Sylvain to hold it for you.”

“Just try me,” Felix replied, crossing his arms and reclining in his chair. “See if I like it.”

Wait, what? Was Felix actually, legitimately flirting? Okay. Well. Two could play at that game.

His neighbour turned towards him, eyeing him in what Sylvain interpreted as concern. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to drag you into this.” He threw a sour glance over at Ingrid. “And stop kicking me under the table.”

Sylvain grinned. “Don’t worry, you didn’t step on anyone’s toes.”

“Oh my god, Sylvain,” Dorothea groaned.

Felix looked at him with this sarcastic poker face of his and gods, Sylvain wanted nothing more than to kiss that smirk off his face. Or maybe it was the smirk that made it so sexy. Hell if he knew.

“Although,” Sylvain continued his previous line of thought, trying his best to be smooth and not as drunk as he probably was, “if you’re wearing heels, I’d definitely let you-“

“Sylvain.” Ingrid was either not amused at all, or too amused and liked being mean to Sylvain. “Behave, both of you, or we’re leaving.”

Felix murmured something inaudible. Sylvain sighed inwardly blissfully, resiging himself to his fate. Yup, he liked the guy. 

He really, really liked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow, they fuck. Literally. It'll be a continuation of this, and it will be PWP, and I'm looking forward to it. In the meantime, feel free to [have a coffee with me](https://ko-fi.com/miladykora), check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MiladyKora) or leave a comment to give me some lovely serotonin!


	2. Parlo d'amor vegliando

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This is where Sylvain and Felix fuck. Check the end notes for content warnings, please.  
> Thank you to my two betas [Jupe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupe/works) and [Ginko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwere), writing this was fucking hard and not in the way I wanted it to be.
> 
> [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/miladykora)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MiladyKora)

The rest of the dinner was fine, just casual conversation about how the preparations for the wedding were going, what the schedule would be for tomorrow, how Cherubino was totally a trans lesbian and how atrocious the restaurant’s dessert options were. Felix, much to Sylvain’s delight, was fully on board with the third point and oddly passionate about the last. Unfortunately, Sylvain was too sleepy from all the wine to properly argue why crème brûlée wasn’t as bad as people gave it credit for, but staring at Felix through half-lidded eyes was nice, too.

Luckily, he was still alert enough to notice that Ingrid was about to pay for the whole dinner and proceeded to literally wrestle the bill from her hands. Then, once he finally had it, he noticed that he had only won because Felix had helped him, and now Felix’s hands were on top of his. That jolted him awake.

Sylvain cleared his throat. “I would like to pay, if that is alright with you.”

Felix scowled. “Absolutely not. I’m paying.”

“Boys, please,” Dorothea said, sounding very exhausted.

“Sorry,” they both said simultaneously.

Sylvain looked at Felix, willing to compromise. “Wanna split the bill?”

Felix, to his relief, just said “fine,” and sat back down on his chair, throwing his legs over where Sylvain used to sit prior to the impromptu wrestling match. He actually was wearing high heels. Sylvain was absolutely fucked.

When Felix noticed Sylvain standing there and trying to process the situation, he smirked. “Problem?”

Sylvain opened his mouth and then closed it again after not coming up with a clever retort. Then, he took a deep breath and turned towards the waiter who, apparently, had stood there the entire time they were bickering. Putting on his best smile, Sylvain reached for his wallet and gave the waiter more than enough to cover the entire bill, plus a 30% tip (or maybe it was a bit more, maths while intoxicated wasn’t his strongest suit).

“You can keep the change,” Sylvain told the waiter with a grin as if behind him, Felix wasn’t getting ready to literally kick his ass. And then, because Sylvain lived to push his luck, he turned around and winked at Felix. Sylvain was so going to pay for this (heh, pay), and he was looking forward to it.

To Felix’s credit, he said nothing, but the way he slowly uncrossed his legs and stood up was enough of a message. Sylvain had to take a deep breath, then forced himself to look away and over at Ingrid and Dorothea. He had the distinct feeling that if he kept up the eye contact, he might get on his knees and a restaurant definitely wasn’t the most appropriate place for that.

Dorothea, luckily, was too busy helping Ingrid into her coat all gentlewoman-like to notice what was going on. And then Sylvain felt Felix move next to him and looked over just to see him offering to do the same for Sylvain – except Felix wasn’t holding out Sylvain’s coat with the intention to be nice. The raised eyebrow, the smirk on his mouth, the way he held it just barely too low were all too demanding for politeness. 

Sylvain took a deep breath, then stretched his arms out behind his back. Felix had to be doing this on purpose. There was no way he didn’t know how weak Sylvain’s knees got from the way his fingertips, hidden by the coat, slid over his arms and met at the base of Sylvain’s neck, how much it made his head spin.

“Shall we go?” Ingrid said next to them, tearing Sylvain from his daze. He nodded slowly.

As they left the restaurant and Felix and Dorothea bickered about their newest sabre choreography, Sylvain caught up to Ingrid.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” he asked.

Ingrid grinned. “Absolutely. It’s finally time to start living our cottage-core dream.”

Sylvain smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re gonna be the most kick-ass wife of all time.”

“So will Dorothea,” Ingrid replied. Then, she giggled. “We’re both going to throw a bouquet tomorrow, so you have double chances of getting Felix for yourself.”

Wait, what?

Before Sylvain could respond to that, she winked, pressed a kiss onto his cheek and slipped away from the hug.

“Let’s go, darling!” she shouted as she tugged on Dorothea’s hand. “I’m so ready for us to get married.” Then, she took off running in the direction of their house.

“Oh for- Ingrid, dear, wait up!” Dorothea took a deep breath, then gave Sylvain and Felix a wave before following Ingrid. “Bye, boys!” she shouted behind her.

And with that, they were alone, save for the cool breeze brushing through Sylvain’s hair. He laughed and buttoned his coat. “Can you believe them?”

Felix leaned against the streetlight they stood under. The slightly orange light made the contrasting shadow from his eyelashes appear blue. “I can. You should have seen Dorothea’s face after meeting Ingrid for the first time. It was downright disgusting.” Then, after looking up at Sylvain a smile, he added, “But also a little sweet.”

Sylvain chuckled and took a step closer. “I thought you didn’t like sweet things?”

“I don’t,” Felix confirmed. “Usually. I can make a few exceptions.”

Fuck, why was this guy so hot? Sylvain took another step closer, then waited for Felix to move. He didn’t. Instead, he crossed his arms and did that sexy sarcastic little smirk of his again. Sylvain smiled back.

“If I’m reading this correctly-"

“You are,” Felix interrupted, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Kiss me.”

Like Sylvain needed another invitation. The first kiss was slow, a tentative test of the waters as their lips met in what seemed like barely more than a shaky breath, but each little movement made up for it. Felix hooked his fingers under Sylvain’s chin to keep him close as Sylvain tangled his hand in Felix’s silky ponytail. Felix meeting his reverent gaze with those beautiful golden eyes of his, framed by long, dark eyelashes was the thing that finally did him in. 

Sylvain leant in to kiss Felix again, only to stop when Felix said, “Wait.”

“Is… something wrong?” Sylvain asked. 

Felix looked up at him through narrowed eyes. “Not yet. But you better not make me regret this by being too drunk to consent.”

For that concern alone Sylvain wanted to kiss Felix even more, and he felt a warm smile blossom on his face. “I’m not. I may be a little tipsy, but I wouldn’t ruin my chances with you by drinking too much.”

“Is that so...?” Felix said slowly. Was he testing him?

“If you want, I have a breathalyser in my car,” Sylvain replied with a shrug. “Otherwise, you’ll just have to believe me.”

Felix snorted. “Alright. You’re staying in the hotel across the street?” Sylvain nodded. “Good. That makes things easier, mine’s on the other side of the town.” Felix separated himself from Sylvain and threw him another one of those looks he didn’t know how to interpret yet (although he sure did enjoy them). “And you know the drill with safewords?”

Sylvain laughed and followed him to the other side of the road. “Felix, please. I’ve been around the block; you can trust me that I know how things work.” Felix’s smile turned into something… proud? Satisfied? Whatever it was, Sylvain wanted more of it.

Then, all air was knocked from his lungs as he was pressed into the wall of the hotel face-first.

“So, this is how it’ll go,” he heard Felix snarl behind him. Felix hadn't taken this tone with Sylvain so far, but oh, if it wasn't about damn time. “We will go to your room. You’re going to do what I say. And you’re going to enjoy every little second of it.” Felix’s left arm kept pressing him into the wall, but his right hand crept up Sylvain's shoulder and came to rest against his neck. “And if you don’t enjoy something, you tell me. Understood?”

Sylvain took a shaky breath and nodded as shivers raced down his spine.

Felix wasn’t content with that. His fingers slowly tapped Sylvain’s neck in what was clearly a warning. “I said, understood?”

“Yeah.” Sylvain swallowed. “Yes. Understood.”

Felix hummed, then let go of him. Sylvain nearly stumbled as he tried to follow the pressure leaving his back, and Felix instantly steadied him with an arm around his shoulders.

“Easy there. Don’t faint before I’m done with you,” he mumbled.

Sylvain chuckled. “Yes, sir.”

When the door to Sylvain’s room closed behind them, Felix instantly tangled his hand in Sylvain’s hair and roughly dragged his head back. Sylvain whimpered. Felix’s other hand began to unbutton Sylvain’s coat.

“Fuck,” Sylvain breathed, “fuck, Felix, this feels so good.”

Felix responded by pulling harder. Sylvain moaned and tipped his head back as much as possible, then brought his hands up to help Felix undress him. Felix smirked.

“You like to obey,” he murmured. “Don’t you?”

Sylvain tugged his coat away from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. Being tidy was the last thing he cared about right now. “I do.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed from your behaviour today.” The hand in Sylvain’s hair suddenly yanked him downwards, and Sylvain dropped to his knees. Felix’s eyes narrowed.

“Look at you,” he whispered softly. “I’ve barely even done anything, and you’ve already got your hands behind your back.” Sylvain’s eyes fluttered closed. 

“Eyes up here,” Felix ordered, voice cold.

Sylvain whimpered, but complied. When he opened his eyes, he saw Felix smile, then lean down to brush over Sylvain’s cheekbones. “Good,” he whispered. "Just like that."

Yeah, no, Sylvain was not going to be a brat tonight. “Please…” he heard himself whine.

Felix looked down at him through narrowed eyes. “Please... what? More praise?”

“Oh, yes,” Sylvain begged, “please.”

“Aren’t you needy?” Felix said, softly moving his index finger over Sylvain’s lips. Sylvain instantly opened his mouth, only to whine again when Felix’s fingers left. “Why don’t you earn that praise? Show me what you can do.”

Sylvain inhaled sharply, then swallowed and followed Felix on his knees when the former took a step back to lean against the wall. “What would you-“

“Anything. Surprise me,” Felix said, interrupting him again. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” Then, in a softer tone, he murmured, “I know you’ll do great.”

Gods, he must have truly done something fantastic to deserve this. Sylvain leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss onto Felix’s thigh through the clothing. The sharp breath radiating through Felix’s body was a whole reward of its own, and Sylvain kissed him again, slowly moving downwards until, barely even past Felix’s knees, he felt the cotton under his lips give way to leather.

“Fuck, Felix,” he whispered, gently wrapping his hands around Felix’s ankles, “I’d let you do anything to me in those boots.”

Felix chuckled. “Anything, huh?”

“Yeah.” Sylvain thought back to the traffic jam earlier today. Compared to the dimly lit hotel room and the adrenaline rushing through his body, the sunny road with radio static trailing behing him felt almost surreal. “I imagined you wearing them even when we were still on the highway and I knew nothing else about you.”

Felix’s eyes took on a predatory glint. “Did you, now?”

And then there was a sharp needle pressing into his chest and Sylvain moaned loudly. Through his haze, Sylvain realised Felix had decided to use his shoulder as a footrest.

“Did you imagine this, too?”, Felix asked and slowly leant towards him, making the pointed heel dig in even further.

“Gods, yes,” Sylvain whispered hoarsely, “what do you think?”

Felix’s chuckle reverberated through his body and into the heel. “You look so good, Sylvain.” He pressed down even more and Sylvain followed the movement, leaning back until he was lying flat on his back. The way his legs were still bent and bordered on discomfort was fucking perfect. “Yeah, just like that,” Felix murmured. “You’re taking the pain so well.”

Sylvain whimpered.

“More?”

Oh, if only. “I… think right now is enough,” Sylvain breathed. “My whole arm’s throbbing. But... another time, hopefully. When we don't have to get up this early.” He allowed himself this hope.

Felix nodded, slowly decreasing the pressure before crouching down over Sylvain and straddling his chest while Sylvain untucked his legs from where they were tucked underneath his ass. “You told me what you need,” he heard Felix murmur before his thumb pressed into Sylvain’s mouth. “Good boy. So, so good for me, Sylvain.”

The wounded noise Sylvain made wasn’t even remotely muffled by Felix’s finger pushing further in. Without even thinking, Sylvain closed his mouth around it, savouring the salty taste of sweat on his tongue.

“You like that?”, he heard Felix ask and nodded. “Yeah, me too.” Felix began to move his thumb in and out. “Your mouth feels so good, Sylvain, so fucking good.”

Sylvain moaned and lifted his hand to brush over Felix’s arm, shivering when he felt Felix’s posture relax on top of him. For a moment, Felix’s thumb left his mouth, and Sylvain used that opportunity to grab his wrist and kiss the inside of it. “Can I-"

“Yeah, you can kiss me.”

"I didn’t even-"

“Sylvain,” Felix said, glaring at him, “you’re very obvious.”

“Oh,” Sylvain replied. “I thought-“

Felix cut him off by leaning in to kiss him and oh, the second kiss was even better than the first. Felix’s lips were warm and chapped as his body pressed down against his in the most perfect of ways, and Sylvain let go of Felix’s wrist not a second too soon before his arms got pinned to the ground.

Just for fun, he tried to resist and got instantly rewarded with teeth scraping against his lip. Sylvain whimpered into the kiss. Felix on top of him, holding him down like it was nothing was not how he thought tonight would go when he first saw him, but damn if this wasn’t better than he could have even imagined.

Slowly, Felix’s weight on him shifted, moving down his body and towards his- oh. Felix started to grind his hips against Sylvain’s dick and the friction from his clothes made him whimper again. Sylvain shifted around, not even trying to deny how hard this made him because how could he, and more importantly - why should he?

When Felix came up for air, Sylvain kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, then travelled down towards his neck and was instantly rewarded with the most beautiful moan from Felix that absolutely straight towards his dick.

“Mmm, you like that?” Sylvain murmured in between two kisses.

“Shut up.”

Then, he moaned again when Sylvain used his teeth. “Why don’t you shut me up instead?” Sylvain murmured, smirking when Felix’s hands pushed his wrists even further into the floor. “I bet your fingers around my cock could do it.”

Felix’s breath hitched. Sylvain grinned.

“Yeah, does that sound good? Do you want to make me forget every word but your name?”

“Oh my god, Sylvain,” Felix growled, “you can go fuck yourself, you know that?”

Sylvain laughed. “If you allow me to get up, gladly.” A blush was creeping onto Felix’s cheeks. “I’ll even let you watch,” Sylvain whispered, kissing his way up to Felix's ear.

Felix groaned, then sat up. “Okay. Fine.”

“Just fine?”

Felix apparently decided not to dignify the question with an answer as he got up and turned on the ceiling light. Sylvain hissed when the brightness hit his eyes.

“Seriously?” he asked.

Felix smirked and sat down on a chair next to the bed. “Yep.”

Sylvain sighed and sat up, carding his fingers through his own hair. “Can we close the curtains?”

“Nope.”

“Felix,” Sylvain said as he took off his shoes and stood up, “why do you like being such a piece of shit?”

For a moment, he thought he went too far, but Felix just casually threw one perfect leg over the other. “Save your praise for later and take your shirt off.”

Sylvain sighed and untucked his shirt from his pants. “Can I at least sit down on the bed?” he asked while he was pulling it over his head. 

Felix pretended he didn’t hear him. “Your pants are next.” Then, when he saw Sylvain’s frustrated stare, he rolled his eyes. “Fine, then sit down.”

Why was he doing this again?, Sylvain wondered as he followed Felix’s instructions and sat down on the bed, spreading his legs in the process.

“Yeah, like that,” he heard Felix murmur. Oh, right. That’s why. 

Sylvain swallowed and looked down at himself, then back at Felix only to see Felix remove the ribbon keeping his hair together. Long navy strands cascaded onto Felix’s shoulders. Sylvain’s dick twitched.

Felix raised his eyebrow when he noticed Sylvain hesitating. “Do you want me to give you instructions on the next part, too?”

Sylvain shook his head, then palmed his cock, thinking back to the way Felix had pulled on his hair and tipping his head back again. Slowly, he drew his hand up, thumb stroking over the head. Felix exhaled sharply, and when Sylvain looked over at him, he got a quiet nod, and Sylvain closed his eyes and imagined it was Felix’s long fingers stroking his dick, drawing one shameful moan after another from his lips. Slowly, heat gathered in his chest and stomach, warm drops gathering into a pool the same way his come would when Felix would spread him over te bed and fuck him senseless.

“Fuck, Felix,” he begged, fingers slowly dragging his precome down over his cock, “let me hear your voice, you sounded so good earlier on top of me.”

“Yeah?”, he heard Felix say.

Sylvain nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered, moving his hand faster and bringing the other hand to his mouth to suck on his index and middle fingers. He barely even noticed the mattress shifting with a second weight until there was a soft, warm hand on top of his.

“What do you want me to do?”, Felix asked.

Sylvain moaned. “Gods, anything.” He chuckled breathlessly. “I’m not very picky.”

“I noticed,” Felix murmured fondly. Then, he wrapped one arm around Sylvain’s shoulders and kissed his neck, even as his other hand moved down to touch Sylvain’s balls. “Like that?”

Sylvain bit his lower lip, leaning into the sensation. “Can you go a bit rougher? I love that, and you're really good at it, so-”

He was silenced when Felix dragged his fingernails down Sylvain's arm. “Better?” Felix asked, smirking.

“Yeah, so much better. Please keep going,” Sylvain begged, fisting his dick, “please, Felix, I-”

Felix leaned forward and nipped at Sylvain’s neck. “Are you close?” Beneath him, Sylvain shuddered. Felix bit down again, harder this time, digging his teeth into Sylvain's skin until he moaned out loud. “I asked you something, Sylvain, and I don't like repeating myself. Are you close?”

Sylvain moaned. “Yes, Felix, yes, can I-”

“No,” Felix said. "But soon. Maybe. Keep going." Sylvain whined, but kept stroking himself even as his hips bucked forward into his fist. Shit, it had way too long since he had felt this good, he distantly thought. Next to him, Felix reached for Sylvain's free hand, softly kissing the inside of his wrist before letting go and tangling his fingers in Sylvain's hair again. The tension at the back of his skull felt fucking fantastic. "Please, Felix," he whispered. "This is so good, please, can I come?"

Felix leaned forward to kiss him, murmuring a quiet “Do it,” as Sylvain moaned into his mouth and then made that noise again and again until his hand gradually slowed down and then stopped. Felix kissed him one more time, then lay down and pulled Sylvain with him.

For a while, the two said nothing. Then, Felix noticed Sylvain looking at him and bristled. 

“What?”

Sylvain’s lips curved into a smile. “I like the way you look with your hair down. It suits you.”

“Hm. What was that about me being a piece of shit?”, Felix asked, and Sylvain laughed.

“I firmly stand by that statement.” Sylvain kissed Felix’s cheek, then whispered, “very firmly.” 

Felix groaned. “No. We’re not doing this.” Sylvain, undeterred, kissed his cheek again, then sat up and looked down at him.

“Do you need me to return the favour?”, he asked.

Felix shook his head. “No, I’m good.” At Sylvain’s stare, he rolled his eyes. “Really. I don’t care about the physical part, anyways.”

Sylvain nodded. “Okay. Let me know if there is something I can do for you, though.”

“You can let me stay the night.”

Sylvain smiled and gently brushed through Felix’s hair. “Sure. Don’t feel like driving all the way to the other end of town?”

Felix grimaced. “No.” After a moment of tense silence, he added, “Also, I don’t mind your company.”

“Thanks,” Sylvain dryly replied. Then, he looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand and nearly choked. It was 2 a.m. “We really should sleep, though.”

Felix nodded and sat up, taking off his boots, much to Sylvain's regret. “Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

“Sure, just help yourself.” Sylvain vaguely gestured towards the other side of the room. “My suitcase is over there.” A few seconds later, a fresh pair of underwear hit him in the face. 

“You’re not sleeping in the ones you’re wearing right now,” Felix scoffed as he went into the bathroom to change. Sylvain snorted and changed, too, before turning off the light and settling down under the blanket. 

By the time Felix had returned, he was slowly dozing off. Felix cuddled up to him, making warmth bloom in Sylvain’s chest for what was hopefully not going to be the last time.

“Night,” he mumbled. “See you tomorrow.”

“Shut up and let me sleep,” Felix replied. “And yeah, same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings/tags(?): D/s dynamics, a praise kink, boot worship, alcohol/drinking (both of them are still able to consent), sadism/masochism (hair pulling, biting, scratching and boot worship) and minor edgeplay.
> 
> Also, you can be ace and kinky at the same time, Cherubino is indeed a trans lesbian and this has been your weekly stream of hills I am willing to die on.

**Author's Note:**

> Le Nozze Di Figaro is my favorite opera and I highly recommend checking out [this version of Cherubino's aria](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgfAWJbjvGg) sung by Maria Ewing and [this version of the Comtessa's aria](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lV4-1PNWoWw) sung by Kiri te Kanawa. Cherubino's aria is where the titles for this fic come from!
> 
> RT the fic [here](https://twitter.com/MiladyKora/status/1308498659106066432?s=20) or [buy me a ~~dopamine~~ coffee ](https://ko-fi.com/miladykora)


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